


Parole

by FlyingNymphLady



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oz AU, Prison, hale gang, last night - Freeform, parole, prag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingNymphLady/pseuds/FlyingNymphLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's finally getting out of prison but he's leaving his scared prag behind. They share a last night together while Isaac shares his fears about being left behind. OZ AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parole

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is told through the eyes of teenage convict Isaac Lahey. His perspective is a bit bias of facts and events that transpired during his time in prison.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any associated characters. This is a work of pure fiction.

"Hey Peter can we talk for a minute?" Isaac asked knocking on the glass door hesitantly. He'd been a bundle of raw nerves ever since he heard the words _parole_ floating around the halls of OZ.

"Sure kid, come on in," Peter gestured as he rolled off his cot to stand to his full height, still a few inches shorter than Isaac but still an overwhelming presence.

"I hear you're leaving in a couple of weeks," Isaac said, trying to work himself up to his "big feelings" talk. None of the Hales were too terribly sharey-carey but Peter had never really treated him poorly for having such vibrant emotions. Once he had even said he enjoyed hearing the younger inmate's thoughts, it kept him grounded to the outside world Peter had told him.

"I am," Peter responded, closing the space between them slowly, advancing on him the way a predator does when stalking prey. In the real world Isaac would have been terrified but in here, in this place, Peter was the one thing _safe_.

"I'm scared Peter," Isaac told him, unable to keep his inner dialogue to himself. When he'd first decided to talk to Peter about this he'd told himself he would be more eloquent but it was too late to take the words back now.

"You're my prag Lahey, what's there to be scared of?" Peter asked wrapping his hands around Isaac's arms comfortingly. No one would dare to look in on them, the Hale cubicles were an off-limits area for prying eyes. Isaac remembered the rumor of how Peter had gouged a man's eyes out just for glancing in on him while he and Derek were talking about basketball scores, it was the kind of story that gave men nightmares.

"That's just it Peter, I'm _your_ prag. What's happens when you leave? Do you even know how many guys are gonna wanna get at me? They'll all want to claim me as their own, claim _your_ prag as their own." Isaac sobbed out quietly, his pensive look beginning to give way to tears.

"Hey, what's my rule on crying kid?" Peter asked calmly, no real anger behind his words, only a calming authority that demanded Isaac's attention. It took him a few sniffles but Isaac managed to rein his tears in, wanting to please Peter as much as he could within their remaining time.

"Don't, it makes you and your own look bad and," Isaac repeated carefully remembering what Hale had told him the first time he'd gotten into a fight with one of the Hispanics. The wetback had managed to slice Isaac's side open and he was sent to get stitches but through the pain he could hear Peter's firm voice telling to him, "And, I'm one of your own. So I can't make you look bad."

"You never forget anything I tell you do you?" Peter asked fondly and Isaac shook his head fiercely. Since the day he walked through the gates of OZ- a nervous, shaking scrap who could barely keep a hold of his belongs much less his expressions- Isaac had revered Peter. He was the first one to show him something bright in this dark place, while humiliating for some, the title 'prag' had given Isaac a place to belong. Being a Hale prag he was coveted in a way that could not be said for most, no one dared touch a Hale prag. Not if they wanted to keep their dick attached.

Scratching the back of Isaac's head Peter gave him one of his favorite grins, flashing his teeth with familiarity, "You'll be fine then Lahey, you haven't got a thing to worry about. Just remember what I taught you and nobody'll touch you,"

Isaac opened his mouth to protest but then he remember the brutality that was shown amongst Peter's companions and he knew he'd never been excluded from that treatment. From day one Peter had shown him how to act in OZ, how to stay alive in OZ. These lessons were painfully to learn, both physically and emotionally but learn Isaac did. He had had to if he had any hope of surviving. In prison, he'd known even then, that accidentally stabbing your father wasn't the best rep you could come in with. Peter had been his savior from the alternatives Isaac had expected. Hale was dark and commanding but he was also smart, he reminded Isaac of the older criminals you saw in old movies, old fashioned mafia men that lived for vendettas and family honor.

Peter had never revealed exactly what had drawn him to Isaac's salvation. Late at night Isaac liked to think it was much like his emotions, that they remind Peter of a time before he was imprisoned- as if they could have met on the outside and shared something like what they had in here. It's a dangerous fantasy but its one of Isaac's favorites.

Letting his head be pulled into Peter's chest Isaac allows silent jerks to fill his body as he fights the need to cry. This is his savior, his lover, his only companion in this godforsaken place and he's just told him he plans to leave. It's a hard concept to grasp and an even harder one to accept but Isaac knows that's his only option. He could plan to personally sabotage Peter's parole hearing but he knows without a doubt that he would fall forever from Peter's grace without a chance of redemption. No, he has to left Peter go even if it seems as though there's no future here without him.

"Would it be possible," Isaac hesitates, he might speak out of turn but he pushes the fear away when he looks to Peter. He won't have another chance like this, Peter won't be here much longer- it's a now or never opportunity, "Would it be possible for me to stay the night? I know you have it in good with some of the guards and I thought maybe..."

Peter silences him with a gentle squeeze to the back of the neck. Isaac keens like a puppy at the touch, melting into the older inmate's gesture. With almost no effort Peter could have him rolling down to the morgue with a tag that reads 'accidental death' but it's just that touch that soothes Isaac. He's known the feel of real cruelty to his deceased father and he knows the way Peter treats him is nothing close to that. Their odd arrangement is far from perfect but Isaac's never been directly afraid of the other man. He's heard the stories and even seen things done first hand but there's no other cell he'd rather be in than this one. It's the safest he's felt since before his father.

"If that's what you want prag, I think we can arrange that," Peter presses his lips against Isaac's forehead. It's true that Isaac's quite a bit taller than Peter but he never feels that way when they're together. Somehow Peter always manages to make him feel as though he's the small, more protected one of their duo. At first it was an odd sensation but Isaac's slowly grown accustomed to it over time, he can't help thinking how odd he'll feel without the Hale here with him.

The guard comes by to assess on the prisoners for final bunk checks but Peter waves them by and they move on. Isaac isn't sure exactly what the older inmate has on the guard but he knows it must be fairly substantial and tonight he's grateful. This will be their time for goodbyes and final farewells, not when Peter actually does leave the prison with the eyes of the world on him. Tonight Isaac will have Peter all to himself and he'll be able to forget where they are, forget the circumstances that brought them here and how they're expected to behave. This is a night simply for two souls to say a final farewell before parting ways eternally.

Perhaps Isaac shouldn't care so deeply for Peter but it's hard not to when this man has given him everything he has. There was a time before he was convicted of patricide that Isaac had felt just as worthless as the trash he stepped on as he made his way down the street. After meeting Peter though things had begun to change. There was a man who was there to show him how to live his life, how to own it rather than wallow in it. The feeling had been absolutely exhilarating for Isaac but it had been nothing compared to being loved by that same man. Not many would even consider the Hales possible of such an emotion but that was the one Isaac knew Peter kindled for him. Before Isaac there had been dozens of prags for Peter, rotating in and out of his favorite with each shipment of new inmates. After Isaac's arrival the exchange of prags that frequented Peter's company had dwindled until there was only Isaac left. There had been no out right confession but it had been the only one Isaac had needed. Peter hadn't wanted the other prags, he'd only wanted Isaac and that was something that blew the boy's mind every time he thought about it.

Isaac allows Peter to draw him to the cot without protest. Normally it would be Peter who dominated their nightly activities but tonight that control is fully within Isaac's grasp. He straddles Peter's stomach, keeping their eyes locked together as he runs his hands under Peter's shirt. They've done this routine in just about every way possible in the time Isaac's been incarcerated but it's a rare night when Isaac's in control like this. He takes full advantage of his power as he slowly rocks himself onto Peter's growing member. This time Isaac's determined to go slow with Peter, to draw out the experience. He's had plenty of shower quickies and sneaking around to rough house but this isn't going to be one of those times. Beneath him Isaac feels Peter's body arising to the occasion, the older man's careful breaths still as smooth as every but his wandering eyes giving way to his actual feelings.

"This is our last time," Isaac murmured as he leaned down to begin his work on Peter's enticing neckline. The words were a statement not a question because he knew them to be true but still it was an odd kind of last time. They would surely still be screwing each other and Isaac would still respond to the title of 'Hale's prag' but this was the last time they'd ever spend time together like this. After tonight everything about their lives would revolve around preparing Peter's successor and ensuring that the gang Peter was leaving behind didn't crumble in his wake.

It took some doing but like a well oiled machine Isaac and Peter worked seamlessly to undress each other, strip by strip the cumbersome inmate clothing gave way to familiar flesh. There were scars and marks set into the skin that marked Peter's flesh as his own and, by the extension of their relationship, Isaac's. The younger prisoner reveled in his favorite possession, taking proper care of every inch as he made his way along. They both knew the end goal of this foreplay but neither of them were in a rush to reach it. The fateful outcome gave them a certain incentive to prolong as much as they could.

Eventually though, after what seemed like a lifetime of pleasure, Isaac's member became so hard it was practically painful for for him and he knew Peter must be feeling similarly. Releasing a pleasantly swollen patch of skin Isaac was quietly enthralled with the thought of it's semi-permanence and secretive location that kept it from prying eyes. Peter's grip had left its own mark on Isaac's skin in the form of dark bruises where he'd held him a little too tightly. Isaac didn't mind though. Musing to himself he contemplated wearing his pants lower on his hips tomorrow, giving anyone who wanted a complete picture of this night. He wished they would stay in a small way; a permanent reminder of Peter.

Taking Peter in his hand Isaac worked with what he had to prepare the member. They'd used the last of the smuggled in lubricant a few weeks ago and hadn't received more. Isaac didn't really mind though, he used his spit and their sweat but he knew once they got going he wouldn't even notice if he went down on Peter dry. Feeling confident in his preparation Isaac was getting about ready to prepare himself when he felt pressure against his entrance. Looking down at Peter he saw the smile that sent shivers down his damp spine, it was a smile reserved for one person in this cage. And that person was him Isaac thought proudly. Pressing down he worked himself onto Peter's fingers, groaning as they opened and scissored inside. They were received and welcomed warmly but after a few minutes Isaac grew restless and knew it was time to change things up again. Pressing his fingers into Peter's chest Isaac quietly stilled the older man, the gentle pressure signalling for a halt. Peter subdued his hand, retracting his fingers within. They had developed a language between the two of them, spoken purely through the body as their circumstances did not always allow them words. Isaac liked this form of communication more than verbal language in a way, feeling closer to Peter even if it was merely out of convenience.

Aligning the two of them together Isaac allowed himself to slowly slide down onto Peter's rigid member, slipping into a blissful torture. Had it been another man Isaac was certain Peter would have cum right on contact but the Hale seemed to have a supernatural control over his body. The roll of his hips mixed with short jerks were a testament to how much Isaac had actually unraveled him, a small slip of control that represented the world to Isaac. Rising and falling like the rolls of the tide Isaac relished in the feel of it all. He rolled with the motion seamlessly, his head thrown back as muted gasps and moans escaped his swollen lips. He knew if he really had wanted he could have cried out, enticed Peter with his exalts but he didn't want to risk the chance of a guard, one not under Peter's control, coming to investigate. Instead he contented himself with small noises, being pushed closer to the edge with every response Peter groaned back.

Flexing his spine again Isaac made his way to Peter's lips, kissing his path to the crease he was looking for and pressing his tongue through the parting of the lips. Isaac had done drugs like ecstasy before but he couldn't remember the experience being nearly as exhilarating as this moment here. He felt all the things society told him he should feel in completely the wrong place, in the worst possible man but he couldn't have been paid to care. This was their last time and he wanted to remember as much as he possibly could.

Touching, groping, caressing- Anything that would help him remember one more inch of Peter's skin. Small gasps and moans littered their movements, interrupting the otherwise quiet of the cell. Perhaps if they'd been somewhere else, outside the walls of this prison, they would have relished in screams and pleas. Here though, it seemed that the near silence was somehow even sweeter than any cry of pleasure they could exalt.

His steady rhythm had become tortuously slowly but Isaac was determined to draw the experience out as long as possible. His movements became jerked as he focused on holding himself back. When Peter yanked him down, gripping his hipbones as a orgasm ripped through the older inmate, Isaac felt the floodgates inside himself part and he clamped down on Peter's shoulder to keep a fateful shout from escaping.

Isaac fell from his high slowly, Peter's chest acting as a comforting bed for him to rest upon while his limbs reminded themselves what earth felt like. He felt a gentle pressure press into his hair and he realized with a tired surprise that Peter was kissing the top of his head. It was an incredibly tender gesture which Isaac had never felt before, it almost made him squirm but he was to tired to react to the irregularity. This was it, Isaac thought, this was the last thing Isaac would consider as a part of their relationship. The rest the world had forfeit them from having anything more. And, perhaps with time, Isaac would find some comfort in that. He couldn't tonight.

.

.

.

Peter walked out of the prison just as was planned. There were of course a few in the prison who had attempted to hold him back but Peter… well Peter had sorted them out in his own way. Walking away from the prison Peter was to be a free (well as free as a convicted felon could be) man and Isaac had no doubt that as soon as the cops had their backs turned, Peter would be right back on top of his criminal world. He was just one of those men born for it.

Isaac watched him go with the rest of Peter's gang. They were all silent as he passed like a funeral procession on its way out the door. It wasn't Peter's funeral, only a funeral of his reign here in the prison. He'd been caught once but never again them all knew. He was Peter Hale and all those who put him in this cage; they'd be regretting that very soon.

Derek was unusually grumpy but no one dared to say anything, not even the other members of the cellblock who hated him. He and Peter hadn't necessarily liked each other but Peter had been the one Derek relied on all his life and now he was being left to take over where Peter left off. They were big shoes admittedly and Derek didn't have Peter's charm but Isaac was confident he'd figure it out. Isaac knew that Derek had been given instructions in regards to his safety via Peter and he was grateful as well as a little pride-hurt but at least he would survive his sentence with the protection of the brooding Hale.

As for Isaac himself he tried not to feel anything and on the outside he was certain he'd pulled off a beautiful performance, one that would have made Peter more than proud. On the inside though his heart was full of nostalgia for what was now ended. He'd never have Peter again and somehow he'd have to learn to be okay with that. He was supposed to be in prison but this was perhaps the first time it had ever truly felt like a punishment for him. A punishment that would most definitely outlast his sentence here.

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\- End -

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